communication.

i stared at the nape of your neck and wondered how it would feel in my hand as we fucked

i looked into your eyes and was washed over with a sense of complete hopeless romanticism

i wanted to trade shoes with you, and hoped you'd be man enough to walk a mile in mine

my attention diverted to your smile as i though of all of the hearts you've painted with it

and how when you walk into a room...it feels like when the sun comes out while it's still raining

your attrition is what fascinated me the most...how it seemed your every breath begged forgiveness for something you aren't even sure you're guilty of

staring at the nape of your neck, then down to your shoes...you had my forgiveness

theodore.

i came for the poetry.
but, now, i come for the poets.

she came for a man 21 years her senior.

if he loves her, he should let her go.

"but she's a grown woman," he says.

she's no more a grown woman than my little brother.

oh, but those titties!
and that mint condition cunt.

i don't like to think of him, a "fellow poet," shooting his poetry across her tits like a strand of freshwater freudian pearls.

i don't want to see her end up with a broken heart...
eventually just coming here for the poetry.

quite contrary

marilyn, marilyn
how does my garden grow

with frostbitten nipple kisses
and pretty boys lined up
all in a row

with velveteen beards
and cigarette smoke

half swallowing my guilt
and bending to touch my toes

on slapstick jokes
and moss covered stones

my garden moves slow

Mariposa

butterfly.
trapped with me in this cold, damp shop...
monarch wings beating frantically at closed windows...
i hear the flutter and it reminds me of my own heart when i can see home, and i have no way of getting there...
i open a window and tell him "out!, right here!"
his frantic wings carry him towards the flourescent light hanging above my head...
"right here, stupid!"
i found myself yelling at him...
as if he could hear me...
i knew, he did not belong here, as i'm sure i do not...
i was angry with the butterfly for having a way out, and not taking it...
after many minutes of holding the window open for him, i closed it, and looked around...
he was no where...

i looked down, and found a ten dollar bill at my feet...

Dancing In The Rain

the rain hits our rooftop like distant drumbeats from foreign lands
i think back to all the thunderstorms, and how they produced little to no rain
how i longed to dance in it...with the men that i had loved
but never did it rain enough
for i only danced with one
now long gone
electrical flashes accompanied the scent of damp earth...
teasing me...
making me think more dancing would come
here, it rains heavy for days
but, i've no one to love

la lune.

sliding slithering sideways
slippery snail trail
poetry falling from between my legs
under the blankets
SPELL YOUR NAME IN MY WET SPOT
etch your name in my flesh
MAKE DAMN SURE I DON'T FORGET
how your one eyed devil purple people eatin' pearl shooter made a goddamn fool of me
grinding teeth from beneath those sheets
rolling gnashing smashing
ripping tearing biting

jack. hammer.


i want to be drenched in your remorse
and i want to know what flavors your seeds come in

i want you to plant your garden and water it often

i want you to fuck me stupid, stupid.

Making Shit Up

he looks like he might just know the best way to love a woman
in his eyes, i can see.
i can see.
we both ache from possibilties and are leaning towards the ones that benefit us better
thoughts that no longer shift like doubt, like distrust, like jealousy
envious of each other for loving one another
having the stones to say so
i am not afraid of the dark
i am afraid of being blinded before i can finally see your light
put it on.
show me.
show me before the summer sun distracts me and dims my sparkle
i'll play mortar to your pestle.

grind with me